


All Children, Except One, Grow Up

by starbox



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bat Family, Dick is a Flirt, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Multi, Underage Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbox/pseuds/starbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman, and by extension his whole network, is prepared for anything. But that doesn't mean their lives aren't thrown completely upside down when suddenly Dick isn't himself anymore. Or rather, he is himself, just his mischievous 13 year-old self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Children, Except One, Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [不会长大的男孩（All Children, Except One, Grow Up）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646096) by [solarcorium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarcorium/pseuds/solarcorium)



> I have no excuse for this other than I really like Dick as a kid and I wish he could interact with the others like this all the time. And because he's like Peter Pan reincarnated for me.

“Themed villain teams are _the worst!_ ” growled Damian, as he stomped up the stairs toward his room.  
    Bruce and Dick exchanged glances. After a moment Bruce nodded slowly, eyes serious. But Dick laughed and hooking a small hand over Bruce’s right arm, leapt up across the front of his chest to perch on his left shoulder.  
    “I don’t know... I kinda like being a kid again, Bruce.”  
  
                                      **Three hours earlier**  
  
    Damian looked up from his math homework to see Dick standing in his doorway. He was dressed in slim black jeans and a royal blue v-neck, a confident grin on his attractive face.  
    The youngest Wayne rolled his eyes. “You realize you’re tempting fate the way you wear your costume colors all over the damn city.”  
    “You realize swearing only makes you seem like you’re trying too hard.”  
    Damian glared up at the young man laughing in his doorway.  
    “Sorry, Dami... But I couldn’t help it.”  
    “Besides, it’s true,” piped up a voice from behind Dick.  
    Damian jumped off his bed, barreled past Dick, and made it out the door in time to catch sight of Tim (quickly) turning the corner.  
    “Coward!” he yelled down the hall as Dick’s giggling reached a crescendo.  
    Damian whirled on Dick. “What are you doing here, Grayson?”  
    “We picked up an APB on a group of suspicious persons who seem to be encircling the Gotham Gold Exchange. Bruce wants you and me to handle... whatever this is.”  
    “So shut up and let’s get moving!”  
  
    Dick bounced on his toes and flexed his fingers in his blue striped gloves. Damian crouched by his side, watching the building below them in a predatory fashion. Once they had completed a basic reconnaissance sweep, they had alighted on a ledge of an office complex near the supposed target. “Suspicious persons” wasn’t a good enough reason to walk into the Gold Exchange in full costume and Damian wasn’t a big fan of entering a scene in civvies and making the switch if the need arose. So the only option they had now was waiting.  
    They didn’t have to wait long. A shrill alarm interrupted the low city murmur for a second before being silenced.  
      “Let’s roll!” yelled Dick and he and Damian leapt off the side of the building simultaneously.     
    Damian smashed through a window with his booted feet and Dick flipped in smoothly after him. They landed on the marble floor in a thin smog of dust.  
    “Explosives?” questioned Dick, squinting around him.  
    Damian grunted and ran off toward the back of the trade house. When they heard movement, he and Dick slowed down and peered around a corner at a long wall of safes. Dick’s eyes widened and he looked down at Damian. The youngest Wayne’s expression was in full-on dark cloud mode.  
    “ _Tch._ ”  
    The villains arrayed in front of them, grabbing gold and platinum watches, were in ensembles covered in hour glasses, clocks, and clock hands.  
    _Themed villains?!_ Damian raged internally. _The only thing about being a superhero worse than patrolling with a circus performer was encountering frigging themed villains._  
    Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Is that Chronos? Haven’t seen him in... uh, have I ever seen him in real life? And Clock King?”  
    Damian’s mouth was in a firm line as he stalked out into the room, Batarangs appearing in each of his fists.  
    “Robin!” Dick jumped out after him as the villains turned to see who was interrupting them.  
    And then the fireworks started.  
    Barbara and Tim would later spend hours poring over the CCTV footage in an effort to see exactly how it went down. But they never really figured it out. Chronos was the one most likely to blame, seeing as he often aged or de-aged items in order to get around them. When the haze of gunshots, hand-made explosives, and Damian’s smoke bombs cleared, Damian stood tallest in the room. The villains were all lying face down on the tiles, and Damian was a good 3 inches taller than Dick.  
    “What the--?” Dick gasped, as he pulled on the sleeves of his Nightwing outfit.  
    Damian had nothing to say. Dick looked around and then up at Robin, his face the picture of innocent confusion.  
    “Uh, could you help me, um, tie up my suit?”  
    Damian silently helped Dick hitch up his suit and tied scrunched up handfuls of it in a knot across his shoulder blades.  
    “GPD’s going to be here soon, Robin, let’s roll!”  
    Damian’s eyebrows jumped as Dick’s boyish voice broke on his last word. But he nodded and they shot escape lines at the ceiling.  
  
  
    Bruce and Dick heard Damian slam his door shut upstairs.  
    The first Robin frowned. “I don’t get why he’s mad...”  
    Bruce simply walked up the stairs, then turned in the direction of the spare wing. Dick bobbed slightly on his shoulder perch but neither one said a word. Entering a small room, Bruce turned on the light in a large closet and reached for a storage tub. Dick jumped off his shoulder.  
    “I missed being able to do that...” he confessed with a shy smile.  
    “I know,” replied Bruce, voice low.  
    He opened the storage bin and Dick saw a stack of boys clothing.  
    “You kept my old stuff?” he asked, a small hand touching Bruce’s massive forearm.  
    “Grab what you need. I’m calling in some of the others to see if we can get you back to normal.”  
     
    Dick slid down the banister. He was dressed in some khaki shorts and light blue Oxford he had found from his Middle School days. Brushing his bangs over to the side like he always did, he had frowned at his young reflection’s lack of poise. He had forgotten how small he had been as Robin. _Ah yes, but I never let that stop me..._ He winked at the face in the mirror and cartwheeled out of the room.  
    The moment he hit the front hall floor, Barbara pulled him into a hug, and he stayed there, practically in her lap, until Bruce coughed pointedly. She released him, and he stepped backwards into Stephanie’s embrace.  
    “You are too cute for words,” gushed Stephanie, messing up Dick’s hair. “Please tell me we can take photos.”  
    Tim stood there blinking for a good few minutes and then leaned down slightly to look into Dick’s eyes.  
    “Oh man, it really is you... Whoa...”  
    Dick grinned up at Tim and then forward flipped over to where Bruce was talking to a bored-looking Jason. Even Bruce raised an eyebrow at Jason’s reaction, which consisted of ceasing speech mid-sentence, turning three shades of pink, and forgetting to blink for a really long time.   
    “So you see the problem,” said Bruce to the gathered listeners.  
    “What if we’re lucky and it wears off?” came Damian’s voice from the stairway.  
    He descended slowly, expression guarded.  
    “Possible,” admitted Tim. “But we should investigate all options in the likely case that it does not.”  
    When Damian got within three feet of Dick, he skipped over and threw his arms around the slightly taller boy’s neck. Damian stiffened and made a sound that amounted to a growl, but Dick just laughed quietly.  
    “Sorry for causing you trouble, Damian. Please don’t pick on me while I’m smaller than you.”  
    Damian pushed him off (surprisingly gently) and walked toward Bruce. “No guarantees, Grayson.”  
    Jason had been watching the two of them and he exchanged looks with Damian.  
    “Trust me, kid, it’s freaking us all out.”  
    Damian nodded curtly and crossed his arms. Dick realized that he was mirroring Bruce and Jason’s poses and bit back laughter.  
  
    The first thing they all noticed was how it was impossible to keep track of Dick when he was less than five feet tall. Suddenly he was as likely to be on the top of a bookshelf as he was to be in front of it, or hanging off of a banister rather than leaning on it. And he was always in motion. Skipping along window ledges, cartwheeling down the hallway, doing forward flips onto Bruce’s mahogany desk, or walking on his hands on the kitchen countertop.  
    It was driving at least Tim crazy. He and Barbara were trying their best to figure out what had done this to Dick and his constant interruptions were not helping. Twenty-something Dick had a sophisticated sense of timing and was not impossible to hear coming down the hallway. Apparently thirteen-year-old Dick seemed to be less aware of social graces and was akin to a slender wraith that popped up from under desks at the worst of times. He suddenly appeared on the top of the couch on which Tim was sitting and nearly caused him to drop his cup of coffee.  
    “Dick! Watch it!”  
    “Oh sorry, Timmy...” Dick looked genuinely apologetic as he slid down the back of the couch to sit by Tim. “Found anything?”  
    Tim rubbed his temples. “No,” he sighed. “And Barbara isn’t doing much better, I’m afraid.”  
    Dick stuck out his lower lip.  
    “I mean, we’re pretty sure we have Chronos to blame for this. So maybe if we can get our hands on that belt of his...”  
    “Makes sense.”  
    Tim glanced down at Dick. “Uh, are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?”  
    Dick laughed and looked down at his chest. “Uh, other than your shirt being too big for me?”  
    Tim grimaced and put down his coffee. “I mean, are your memories all intact? You’re still actually your older self, right?”  
    The boy by his side jumped off the couch and bent over and up into a handstand.  
    “I dunno... I guess I’m okay.” The t-shirt fell over his face, exposing his stomach. “Well, it took me longer to remember some stuff this morning...”  
    Tim’s lips twisted into another frown. “You mean, you feel like you’re actually reverting to your younger self?”  
    “That’s worst, worst case scenario, Timmy, but... I suppose you’re right.”  
    Dick’s increased effort as he attempted standing on one hand was visible in the shiver of his chest and smooth stomach. He gave up and walked on his hands toward the door, then leapt backward to his feet and pulled the shirt down.  
    “But that’s _worst_ case scenario. Don’t worry. I still know who I am, little brother.”  
     He winked at Tim, then skipped out the doorway. Tim fell back on the couch and ran a hand through his hair.  
  
    “Babs!” called a high voice from the hallway.  
    Barbara rotated her wheelchair in time to see Dick tumble into the room after a gymnastic flip he probably shouldn’t have attempted without arm braces. He picked himself up and leapt the two steps needed to close the distance between them. He wound his arms around her neck and hid his face in her hair, nose against her skin.  
    “Be careful. What if you sprain something?” she admonished.  
    “You smell so nice...” he murmured.  
    One of his little hands soon became tangled in her hair.  
    “You incorrigible flirt,” she sighed.  
    “But you’re so pretty, I can’t help myself.”  
    “May I remind you that you are currently a minor.”  
    “I’ve always liked older women,” announced Dick, his smile devilish in the extreme.  
    Barbara laughed and swatted him off her. He bounced away and stood by her side, hands twined behind his back, face innocent. Her fond smile faded slightly as she turned back to her computers.  
    “What is it, Babs?” he asked, leaning on the side of her wheelchair.  
    “Nothing... just seeing you like this brings back memories.”  
    He let his head fall gently on her shoulder.  
    “I was like you once.” She smiled grimly. “We all were.”  
    Dick was silent but his eyes were rimmed with the beginning of tears.  
    “Babs... I wish you--”  
    “No. That’s not an option. And wallowing in the past is not something we do.”  
    “Well, we try not to...” added Dick, lips pursed.  “Some of us do a better job than others. And for the record, I mean Bruce.”  
    Barbara shook her head, smile playing on her lips. “Dick...”  
    The boy stood on his tiptoes and flexed his fingers.  
    “I wish he’d give me a uniform. Any uniform. He won’t let me out on patrol!”  
    “I wonder why? Oh, wait, maybe because you weigh nearly 12 pounds less than the current Robin and the appearance of yet another vigilante kid would send everyone into a tizzy.”  
    “But...”  
    “Do you realize how many people keep tabs on him--on us?”  
    “Yeah...”  
    “You think he wants the JLA to come calling about the new kid? Only to find out it’s one of his old kids? He’d be _really_ happy about that.”     
    Dick pulled a disgruntled face.  
    “So unless you have any new insights, run along,” she told him.  
    He saluted cheekily and did just that.      
  
    Damian looked up from his science homework to see Dick standing in his doorway. He was wearing a pair of Damian’s outgrown jeans and some nerdy shirt he had borrowed from Drake. He looked almost nervous.  
    “What?” barked Damian.  
    “Sorry... it’s just I’m getting bored and Bruce won’t let me have my old outfit. So I was wondering if I could use--”  
    “Nope. Not happening.”  
    “It was worth a try...”  
    Damian returned to staring at his textbook. He tried not to react to the slight dip in his mattress when Dick climbed on it. He tried not to react when Dick lay on his stomach parallel to him. But he couldn’t not react when Dick blew in his ear with a quiet giggle.  
    “For crying out loud! Are you a complete _child?!_ ” He covered his ear, face bright red.      
    Dick smirked in a familiar manner. “You were spacing out. Is cell meiosis that difficult for you? I can explain it if you want...”  
    “No! I’m fine!”  
    “Okay... Your loss.”  
    Dick rolled over onto his back and puffed his cheeks out with air. Damian stared at him, pencil in hand, not writing a word. After a few seconds, Dick turned his curious blue eyes on the youngest Wayne. He reached out a small hand to flick Damian’s nose, but Damian swiftly grabbed his wrist and twisted it up over his head.   
    “Knock. It. Off.”  
    Damian was leaning over Dick, his head and shoulders casting a shadow over the acrobat’s surprised face.  
    “Sorry...” Dick said in a soft voice, eyes wide and honest.  
    Damian gritted his teeth and rolled off him to sit on the side of the bed. Dick sat up as well and watched Damian’s back as he sighed heavily.   
    “It’s my fault that this happened,” the current Robin said darkly.  
    Dick scooted over to sit by Damian. “No, it’s not. It’s mine, for not trusting you to handle them on your own. If I hadn’t gotten in the way...” Dick shrugged. “But honestly, I’m not too worried.”  
    Damian looked at him, eyes somber.  
    “Oh come on! It’s not like I’m super old or anything! I like being able to use the manor as my personal jungle gym again.”  
    Dick hugged Damian quickly, then moved out of his reach with a grin.  
    “I’ll go bother someone else now. Study hard!”  
    Damian tried, but he didn’t retain anything else he read that day.  
  
    Stephanie was doing her nails with a stunning pink polish when Dick stuck his head in the room she was using.  
    “Wow, that stuff smells awful.”  
    Stephanie nodded and beckoned him over. He sauntered toward her.  
    “Please, please can we do a couple selfies?” she asked, eyes serious. “I swear I will never share them with anyone who hasn’t passed Batman’s muster and hasn’t been in the JLA’s phonebook for more than 5 years.”  
    Dick scratched his head. “But Steph, that’s still over two dozen people...”  
    “Please.” Her eyes were the most sincere he could remember them being.  
    He shrugged and nodded. She pulled him over to her and whipped out her phone. They took a few: Dick next to her, Dick peeking over her shoulder, and one she stole, as it were, with him in her lap.   
    “Erase it! That last one!” he yelled, grabbing at the phone.  
    Her triumphant smile was hard. “Not on your life, baby Nightwing!”  
    He clutched his face. “Omigosh this is worse than an embarrassing childhood pic because _it never should have existed_.”  
    “Kara’s gonna totally flip out.”  
    “Please don’t!”  
    “I wonder if I have Zatanna’s most recent cell number...”  
    “I’m serious Steph, this is really cruel of you...”  
    She tilted her head and smiled placatingly. “Let me paint your nails and I’ll delete it.”  
    “You have to be kidding me.”  
    “I have black and a really quality sparkly blue...”  
    Stephanie was true to her word. But considering she then took a picture of Dick modeling his new manicure, she felt pretty smug about the whole situation. Tim was gonna love this.  
  
    After dinner, Dick went into the library to find something to read. He saw a broad shouldered figure sitting in Bruce’s favorite chair and moved quickly to perch on the armrest.  
    “Oops.”  
    Jason’s dark eyes rolled up to take in Dick’s gleeful face.  
    “Hey, you’ll be pleased to know I mistook you for Bruce. Bet you've been wanting to hear that for years.”  
    Jason snapped shut the laptop he had been using. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”  
    Dick covered his ears dramatically. “I’m barely old enough for PG-13 films, Jay, stop it.”  
    The young man’s jaw twitched. “Shut up. You’re still older than me. It’s just a body switch thing.”  
    “Except this is my _actual_ body... I remember it exactly like this,” Dick murmured. “I especially hated my stick arms.”  
    He held out the offending limbs toward Jason. “I bet your hand can go around my whole arm.”  
    “I’m sure it can.”  
    Dick shook his arms meaningfully and Jason reluctantly dropped the computer to the floor and encircled Dick’s right upper arm with a hand.  
    “As I suspected...” sighed Dick and flopped over to land in Jason’s lap.  
    Jason nearly jumped out of his seat, and he let go of Dick’s arm quickly.  
    “The hell!?”  
    Dick waggled a finger under his nose. “The swearing should really stop. For Damian’s sake. He’s picking up your bad habits, you know.”  
    Jason made a distressed noise. “This lecture coming from you, right now, is really freaking me out...”  
    “Why?” Dick asked, prodding Jason in the chest.  
    “Because... Would you stop?”  
    He ceased poking and curled up against Jason, tucking in his feet and hands. “Damian said that too. Why do you all hate me now?”  
    Jason rubbed his forehead with the back of a hand. “Dammit... You shouldn’t do stuff like this, you know.”  
    “Huh?”  
    Jason looked away and sighed loudly.  
    Dick touched Jason’s chest again, hand spread wide this time. Jason twitched and frowned down at him.  
    “Why didn’t I get huge like you, huh?” Dick complained softly. “Luck of the draw, I guess. I mean, we’re both not actually Waynes but at least you look like you could be.”  
    “Are we doing this now?!” Jason choked out.  
    “Doing what?” Dick stretched and yawned. “Oh man, I’m bored, Jayyyyy...”  
    He stuck a hand slowly under his too-big t-shirt and scratched his pale stomach. Jason was watching him with an expression that seemed to border on horror. Dick suddenly began walking two fingers of his free hand up the man’s arm. Jason opened his mouth to reprimand him when he noticed the black and blue manicure. He took a breath, then captured the unresisting hands in his.  
    “You have tiny Nightwing symbols painted on your fingernails...”  
    Dick squirmed in delight and grinned up at the young man’s serious face. “You’re the first one to notice! Despite the fact that I handed the salt to Damian _really_ slowly.”  
    “He’s probably smart enough to pretend he didn’t... Why on earth would you do that?” Jason loosened his grip on Dick’s hands, but the boy immediately grasped his strong fingers.  
    “It sounds stupid, but I like being able to see them all the time. Reminds me, you know?”  
    “You’re... you’re not forgetting?”  
    “I don’t know. I’m not sure anymore...”  
    Dick’s voice was so low that Jason unconsciously leaned in.  
    “I changed my mind. I like you like this,” Dick said after a moment.  
    “Like this?” Jason’s frown had returned.  
    “When I’m little you don’t hurt me as much.”  
    Jason’s eyes widened. “But I don’t--”  
    “Please, you’re always all over me!” Dick said loudly.  
    Jason made a choking sound.  
    Dick continued: “When I’m normal size, you usually start pushing me up against walls or tables, or twisting my wrists together in weird directions when you get mad. Now you aren’t doing that. I guess it’s because you’d break me...”  
    Dick let go of the man’s fingers and opened his hands up against Jason’s. Palm to palm, their size difference was obvious. Jason’s expression was one of acute discomfort and he shifted in the chair.  
    “Or really it's because Bruce would be soooo pissed if you messed me up,” said Dick, as if it was an afterthought. “He not-so-secretly thinks I’m _adorable_.” He yawned again, lazily.  
    “Unbelievable...” muttered Jason. “Un-fucking-believable.”  
    “Swearing. No,” mumbled the first Robin, fingers brushing against Jason’s lips. “Shhh.”  
    Jason raised his eyes to the ceiling and begged all that was good in the universe that Dick would fall asleep really, _really_ soon.  
  
    Jason was carrying Dick like a piece of human luggage, at arms length, when he encountered Bruce in the hallway. Both men stopped in their tracks.  
    “He fell asleep on--in the library,” explained Jason quickly.  
    Bruce nodded and held out his right arm toward Jason, who moved a step closer. Bruce scooped up the sleeper so that his head and a floppy arm were flung over his shoulder and he was sitting in the crook of Bruce’s elbow.  
    “Thanks, Jason.”  
    Bruce turned and headed back down the hallway to the room Dick used when he was in the mansion. Jason watched them go, mixed emotions playing in his chest. Bruce was still reading the newspaper he was holding in his left hand, while Dick, mouth hanging open, was resting ignorantly on his shoulder. _He doesn’t even fucking know_ , thought Jason. _He has no idea that Bruce is never more like a real father than when he’s with him. Not even when he’s with Damian. Just with him._   Jason’s hands curled into tight fists, nails digging red marks into his palms.       
  
    Bruce could feel Dick’s quick breathing against his own chest. He remembered this weight, the way the first Robin’s body felt. More than any other protege, Dick had always been within sight. In the mansion, on patrol--when he would use Batman as a jumping off point, a landing point, a pivot point--he had always been close. So when he had come back from that assignment two days ago, elfish grin on a familiarly small face, Bruce hadn’t batted an eyelid that the first thing the boy had done was perch on his shoulder. It had felt right.  
    Not that Dick reverting to his younger self hadn’t surprised Bruce. It was something he had never seriously considered. Batman planned for every possibility, and Bruce was pretty sure there had at one time been a large file on how to adjust to a ward being rapidly de-aged. But villains had changed, and that sort of thing didn’t happen as much anymore. Besides, just because Batman was prepared for something, didn’t mean Bruce was.  
    Far from it. He wasn’t ready for these smiles that seemed to steal onto his face without his realizing it. He wasn’t aware of the routines they had fallen back into. He wasn’t prepared for the memories that flooded his mind whenever that boy appeared before his eyes. So every time Dick had come to peek into his office like he used to, or cartwheeled into the Batcave, or put a hand on his arm, Batman had frowned but Bruce had sort of forgotten to breathe. Just one missed breath, but always one. And when the boy had begged, eyes wide, to go on patrol, Batman had simply shook his head and adjusted his gauntlets. But Bruce... he hadn’t been sure what to do.  
     And neither Batman nor Bruce were ready for the shadow of guilt that sunny smile unwittingly brought with it. Batman acknowledged its legitimacy and threw it in that dark place where the rest of his guilt lay. Bruce fought against it. He tried remembering the good that had come of making Dick his ward, of the stability he had brought to that destroyed life. But that voice was back, the one that wouldn’t leave him alone on his worst nights--the one he needed Batman to escape: _You hypocrite, you just didn’t want to be alone. In the end, you’re like all the rest. Despite your morals and your rules and your strength. You are afraid._  
    Bruce clicked on the light in Dick’s room and lay the boy on the now too-big double bed. He pulled the coverlet over the sleeping form and then went to check that the windows were secure. Another old habit, he realized. He had always seen whether the windows were locked or not to ascertain if his ward were likely to go out on a solo patrol. _But now, that’s all he ever does._ _Nightwing..._ Bruce looked down at Dick’s peaceful face. _Not Robin anymore. Never again._  
    The boy twitched and opened his bright eyes. He squinted up in the dark and Bruce stepped quickly toward the door. Not fast enough.  
    “Bruce...?” The voice that called his name was sleepy and soft.  
    He took another step.  
    “Don’t!” Dick sat up, one hand outstretched, wanting.  
    Bruce froze and tried to hide in his silence.  
    “Come back.”  
    He didn’t move.  
    “What if I said I’d had a nightmare?” asked the boy, face tilted.  
    Bruce shook his head.  
    “It was really scary... monsters and everything.”  
    No response.  
    “Please.”  
    Bruce’s body moved, as if against his will, toward the bed. He stood at the edge of it, and the boy hopped up. Dick placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and looked into his face, blue eyes full of adoration.   
    “You’re not a child anymore,” said Bruce finally, voice rough to the point of breaking.  
    Dick nodded obediently, then placed a filial kiss on Bruce’s cheek. “But thanks to you, I was once.”  
   _Breathe_ , Bruce ordered himself. Dick simply fell back on the bed with a small _whomp_ and curled up contentedly, eyes already closing.  
     
    When Dick awoke on the third day, he was wearing a t-shirt that was way too small for him. The sweatpants he had been wearing were no longer a feasible option either. He jumped from the bed and ran to the mirror. He found his reflection tall, muscular, and astonishingly handsome.  
    “It’s good to be back!” he yelled.  
    Someone was banging on his door within minutes.  
    “Hold your horses! I need pants!”  
    He pulled on a pair of running shorts and opened the door. A frazzled looking Tim and Barbara stared back at him.  
    “Oh, thank goodness!” said Barbara and slumped back in her wheelchair.  
    Tim was shaking his head. “I’m so glad this solved itself... Whew. The memories thing was freaking me out...”  
    Dick grabbed them both in a hug. “Awww, you guys!”  
    Stephanie appeared at the end of the hallway and Dick beckoned her in for a hug too. Once Dick had added a t-shirt to his ensemble, they all made their way downstairs where Jason and Damian were having breakfast at opposite ends of the table. The moment they saw Dick, they both looked him up and down, grimaced, and returned to what they had been previously doing (drinking coffee and pouring milk respectively). He, on the other hand, laughed and leaned in over Damian.  
    “See? All better, partner.”  
    “So you won’t get in my way again, right?” said Damian, eyes still on his plate.  
    Dick mussed Damian’s hair, then dodged the counterattack to make his way to the other end of the table.  
    “Jayyyyy...”  
    “Shut up, Richard.”  
    “Sorry for terrorizing you the other night. It really was unforgivable of me...”  
    Jason looked up, a suspicious arch to his eyebrows.  
    Dick bent down to whisper breathily: “But I won’t break _now_.”  
    Jason choked on his coffee and turned bright red. “ _You fu--_ ”  
    “No swearing in the mansion,” ordered Dick, hands on his hips. “I’m the eldest, and that’s the rule.”  
     “Good to have you back,” said a deep voice from the doorway. They all looked up to see Bruce with his newspaper in hand. He gave the slightest of smiles to Dick and then disappeared.  
    “It’s just not a big deal to him, is it?” said Stephanie. “One day, I’ll be that stoic.”  
    “Not likely,” replied Tim, as he sat down at the table. “Please don’t give yourself an apoplexy with trying.”  
    Barbara, eyes amused, pulled herself up beside Tim in the spot without a chair.  
    “Sit down,” she said to Dick over her shoulder. “Eggs are getting cold.”  
    “This _plebeian_ only eats cereal,” muttered Damian, pushing the milk jug toward the center of the table.  
    Dick tore his gaze from the empty doorway and joined the others with a grin.   

 _Back? Bruce, I’ve never left you. Never will._    
         


End file.
